


EYE FOR AN EYE (the world goes blind)

by rainberryfae



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Agent Harry Styles, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angry Sex, Assassin Louis, Assassin Louis Tomlinson, Bottom Louis, Criminal Louis Tomlinson, Don't Judge Me, Drama Teacher Louis Tomlinson, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, Louis wearing all kinds of outfits, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Rather be tied up with cuffs and not strings, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, and, angry kittens are dangerous, fuck the system thingz, futuristic because i'm too lazy to learn about actual weapons, long hair Louis bc he looked divine with long hair, might be a reach but
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainberryfae/pseuds/rainberryfae
Summary: By day, Louis Tomlinson works as a drama teacher for schools in the south of his District, but at night he is a reckless criminal whose targets are the little guys on big chairs. Harry Styles is the Head Agent on the case trying to hunt him down.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	EYE FOR AN EYE (the world goes blind)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! so it is my first time publishing anything in English and since I don't have a beta I ask of you to be kind if you decide to point any mistakes, it should be common decency but in case someone needs to be reminded. 
> 
> Please take into consideration this work will contain explicit descriptions of violence (as shown in the warnings). ALSO, there are brief mentions of abuse/rape in this intro, IT DOES NOT HAPPEN, BUT IT'S IMPLIED and I wish for you to be mindful of it to prevent triggering. 
> 
> This is what I got to offer today, tomorrow? who knows. I wanted to get this plot out of my head and hopefully someone might be interested too? if so, please let me know.

It was a perfectly normal Friday night, with creeping darkness consuming the environment as tired workers were on their way home or checking in at the beginning of their shifts. GIAN's Industries took no break from production during the weekends and were as ruthless with the waste disposal as the billionaire’s partying with traffic victims on their arms. 

The city lights were the only stars people knew in the district, former professor Tomlinson wishes he could let them know the real ones are up in the sky behind all those layers of pollution that not even the rich -like the Wright family, can see through. He can recognize their pathetic attempt at making buildings so tall, thinking they would reach the sun, but here in the top, the fog it’s as dense as it can be.

The sounds of the streets are numbed by the waves of wind running wild, the man arrives at the crown of the structure with the ease of an ambitious bird, black clothing to disguise himself, and a mask over his face which only leaves his courageous eyes for the enemies to see. 

Zayn used to say the mission starts when you drop from the sky, Louis smiles to himself while palming for the weapons on his body, he is no vengeance angel. For him, the mission starts when you go through the windows or doors, the first click of the lock is the loudest reminder that he is not leaving the same way he entered, be it because of the blood on his hands, the injuries on his body, or the plan in general.

The lock opener kit on his gloved hands reflects a little bit of moonlight, a long way -if you were to ask him- from the improvised kit he made when he was younger that consisted of one of his sister’s eyebrow tweezers and some other deformed and sharpened tools, in Louis’s defense, it worked. The thing is, he grew up worrying about being quick, silent, and precise, now with this modern and automatic lock openers he just had to insert the thing and wait for the job to be done for him, he just knows it was a straight dude who invented this shit.

After a few seconds, he closes the door as silently as possible behind him, advancing with tentative steps, there is no one in sight for the next four rooms he has to go through, and somehow that only puts him more on edge. He is now hoping the next door he opens won’t lead to a room full of security men, to his dismay, that’s exactly what happens.

Despite the purpose of his mission and the lethal style he is known for, he never electrocutes guards to death, he simply paralyzes them with a tiny acute shock or if the occasion demands it -like getting annoyed by the wire’s sound, sleeping darts do the job just fine. 

Right now though, he didn’t even get the chance to close his eyes and take a deep breath because there wasn’t a lock to unlock, there was only a door ajar, behind which men talked about bringing up to the director how their cousins needed a job too to pay the bills and sustain their families. He couldn’t help but remember the tired expression on his mother’s face, shift after shift, year after year, bills after bills, it wasn’t enough, never enough, not even when he started working too. 

Louis prompts himself to react with the agility he was taught, he gets to exhale through all the disarming moves he executes, keeping the distance with the victims of his stun gun. He smiles under the mask at the next brute who tries to manhandle him and slam his body to the ground, if he does smile wickedly at the man’s frown after stabbing his arm with the sleeping dart, no one has to know. 

“Don’t worry, we can do it another day” he says with a breathy voice under the guard’s and proceeds to push the unconscious body to the side so he can stand up, wincing for a couple of seconds before moving to the next room, giving no second thoughts to the dozen of men who weren’t able to ask questions or scream for back-up before dropping unconscious.

The next challenging room is the monitoring base, he never played many video games as they were commodities his mother couldn’t afford but he thinks this is how leveling up feels like. The only difference is he gets to show off the calves his soccer coach used to eye every practice back in high school. Sometimes he pictures the pervert’s face when kicking guards like this one, who he recognizes as one of Sade’s members, a thug with too many wanted posters in polices stations, where he sure is never going to set foot in thanks to the Wright’s lawyers, and the judge, let’s not forget about the judge. 

_The strength is not in your shoes but in your legs,_ he repeats mentally, then proceeds to tiptoe to his unconscious pal, scrunching his nose at the sight and smell of blood, taking the badge which will grant him access to where he wants to be. He leaves the room wishing deeply he had more time to do more with him. 

With the monitoring base taken care of he finally walks the shiny hallways and gets to breathe in the smell of expensive flowers he will never know the name of, those residing in vases worth the hunger of an entire district. But the fresh scent is quickly ruined by the sound of a suited security officer calling out for him, sooner than later Louis slides into the floor in his direction, knocking him down before it’s too late. 

“C’mon man, go easy on me” he pouts under the mask.

“Should I now?” the struggling guard replies, trying to reach for the gun on his back, confused when Louis straddles his hips “Wha-ht?” a knee containing his full weight against his throat cuts him off.

“I did ask nicely” Louis mentions, not missing the hard abs under him, he feels bad for what he is about to pull on the poor guy but he won’t lose focus because some fit asshole. “How many of you left on the two floors below?” 

“Want to know how many are you killing tonight, bitch?” 

“That’s your fucking job, you fucking loser, your bosses’s too” he mutters spitefully, pulling out the knife from the case on his belt, increasing the pressure of his knee on the man’s throat whose eyes bulge at the sight of the weapon. “Now give me the number I want, please?”

Louis frowns at the man who continues trying to sneak the arm behind his back and shakes his head in disappointment, these people really wipe their asses with his kindness. Maybe if he was a little madder and just killed them all, they’d learn to appreciate things better in their next lives. Still, the ungrateful asshole pulls his arm from behind but before he can unlock the gun and fire, Louis runs a knife into his hand, gun dropping a couple of meters away from them, a whiny grunt escapes the man.

“Numbers now, the sooner I leave the sooner you can get a doctor to look at it, maybe you won’t lose it” the threat floats between them for a couple of seconds. Unable to clutch his hand to his chest for comfort or scream thanks to the weight on his larynx, the man gives up with welled up eyes and a red face staring at the hallway's floor. 

“25 guarding Mr. Wright, 10 with each of his 3 sons, another 25 for backup” 

“Why are you the only one here?” Louis asks, pulling out the knife from his hand and murmuring a soft _Oops_. 

“I’m not telling you anything el—“

“Here we go again” he sighs, taking out one of the baby teasers and turning them on, as soon as the guard sees it come close to his mouth, he speaks up again.

“They are leaving in an hour, I’m supposed to ask for their ride personally”

“Mm, so the info is not leaked through communication systems” Louis saves the teaser and knife in his pockets, taking one of the sleeping dart ammunitions, swiftly injecting the sharp end on the guard’s leg, freeing his neck from his knee, and watching his eyes close little by little. “Well, the show must go on”

Driven by the confidence a little bit of knowledge gives him, Louis starts navigating the hallways with a little sway of the hips while unstrapping Barbara from his back, loading the magazine, and setting the silencer on the muzzle. The weight of the gun sets a current of fire in his veins, blood burning with the control he now possessed, the lighting nature of it didn’t matter as long as he could have it. 

He takes the emergency route, concrete walls unable to contain the hell walking down the steps, as soon as he pulls in the heavy door, his pupils light up at the sight of the blue flicker, the electricity shocking the guard by the neck, the bullet deformed itself into platinum wires with charged needles, and so it begins, bodies dropping with the leeches like projectiles attached to the skin. 

Soundless and agile moves easily take down half of the back-up team, everything goes according to the plan until the elevator doors open and a seemingly young guard stares in shock at his colleagues on the floor, some bodies still shaking. Louis runs to the closing doors, barely making it and slamming into the guard’s body, trying and failing to make him lose the grip on his gun. 

The kick from the man’s elbow on his cheek makes him taste his own blood, tainting the mouth area of his mask, the wet texture itches the bruising skin and the red spills out from the tiny holes from the cloth‘s material. 

He shakes a little, the question of what was this man doing here vanishes as fast as it comes, he is not here for interrogation marks but to answer, he is the answer. No gun directed at his chest makes him doubt, not even when the man fires it, he doesn’t retreat into the pain, Louis stares back at the surprised expression of his companion; eyes rolling to the back before nose-diving the ground. 

With ringing ears he thanks Giselle for the new vest, if it wasn’t for her, he would be the one on the floor. High on adrenaline, the pain doesn’t come as strong as it is, with every step the excitement grows and grows, sometimes it feels like chasing after a bliss no drug or men can give him. 

Disarming the brothers’ security squad proves to be a little harsher than he thought, squealing hideous things or so-called humans, gave Louis no other choice but to pistol-whip them to shut them up. The script was getting old, act one: they ask who the hell he was, act two: the threats start raining, act three: the silver-spooned assholes end up begging for mercy, offering all they had as if he was one of them. 

Instead of replying to their gracious offer, he wanders a little bit on the amazement that comes with the knowledge of how easier it is to get silence from his teenage students in comparison to his victims. Years ago Louis wouldn’t have thought nor believed there was a crowd more demanding and exhausting but surprisingly there was. 

Cuffed by the wrists to one another, the triplets move to the front, a stumbling cloud of expensive clothes and broken noses, dripping and unable to hold the fractured cartilages. Even when the lift it’s big enough to allow distance between them, Louis holds his guns and keeps the attention where it needs to be. The sound of their ragged breaths at the soft ring of the doors opening reminds him he has reached the step before the throne. 

Soon, he’s touching one of the triplets back of the neck with Barbara’s muzzle, sweat trickles from the brother’s foreheads as they stare back at him. With a calm voice, he murmurs:

“You try anything and I blow his brains out” unnerved by the fear in their gaze, he talks again: “Move”

By the time they are out of the golden box, the man he holds at gunpoint it’s sobbing, attracting the attention of the first five guards in sight. “Not so brave when you are at the end of the knife , huh.” Louis says, shooting at the upcoming storm, watching three of them slump easily as he uses the little pigs as shields. 

At the clicks of the guns from the remaining two guards, he kicks the crying chad, causing the trio to tumble to the ground, and with the fraction of distraction he ducks, dodging the bullets coming for his brain. He shoots the leeches’ gun with an offended expression and walks up to their bodies, kicking them in the crotch for aiming to kill him, _how rude._

“Oi, Napoleon, Squealer and Bacon, stand-up” he commands, pointing Barbara at the Wright trio again, when they frown, he smirks. Using the stun gun in his other hand and shooting at one of the brothers’ legs. Shaking but they do as told. “Don’t worry, the show it’s about to start”

“You are crazy!” Louis sighs. 

“Am I now, little man?” he responds, composed, not bothering to look at them, thinking briefly how Barbara needs to be polished after this because a rusty queen won’t do. The sudden snickers remind him of the set of the play where he is at. 

“You won’t be the tallest men in the room when you kneel with my dear Barbara in your mouth” they go dead silent and he finds himself thanking the universe for it, in the meantime he throws the smoke bomb inside the open steel doors and closes them so it blows peacefully, the sound of slumping bodies reminds him of the pigeons and birds dropping dead on the glass window of his childhood home. 

The news called it poisoning but never acknowledged the real question, _by what?_ The only thing the communities knew was that nothing good could end an animal’s life the way this poison did. Deep inside, the people knew there was something in the air and it was only going to be a matter of time before those air currents reached the ground where human bodies would quickly descend too. 

“Up” he doesn’t bother with further verbal instructions anymore, he opens the steel doors, directing the triplets to walk in the garden of suits and unconscious hands holding now useless guns. “Hold your breath” 

Halfway through the smoke curtain which he is immune to, the panicked screams of the head of the Wright family can be heard, Louis identifies two voices trying to calm the scared man behind the main door. 

“C’mon, I know you don’t have manners but knock this time” Barbara it’s now placed by one of the triplet’s ears. “Beg for daddy’s help, let’s see if he thinks you are worth it” 

The man obeys, knocking on the door with his brother’s hand hanging languidly at the other end of the handcuffs, heaving the movement and making it resonate harder on the _Bubinga_ wooden door. None of the siblings are looking at each other’s when the one knocking on the door finally talks;

“Dad, it’s us” he speaks with a fear loaded voice, like a child who just wants to go home where everything it’s safe. Louis should be surprised by the father’s lack of response but he isn’t, silence it’s the loudest answer. “Open the door, please dad” his pleas remain unanswered, the brothers are looking at each other; the alarm bells going off in their minds, realization pouring down on them.

“Dad! Open the god-dammed door!” another one from the trio demands, screaming and knocking on the door with his fist still connected to his sibling’s wrist; curses, pleads and spiteful words fall from the men’s mouths, they look ready to drop on their knees and Louis founds the scene ironically familiar, savoring the religion similarities joke for a couple of seconds before resuming his plan. 

“Well, seems like Daddy dearest doesn’t care about you, so I don’t have a use for you either” 

“Wait! No, no, no, please!” their cries start up again as the click of Barbara against the brother’s neck can be heard again. 

The man at gunpoint it’s shaking while his brothers try to comfort him, all of them too distracted to notice Louis pocketing the stun gun and pulling out a second one, aiming it. The shot’s loud because the baby on his hand doesn’t have its pacifier, the remaining duo flinches and sob at the weight pulling down their wrists. 

“Mr. Wright, special delivery” he finally speaks, kicking tiredly at the hunched-over figure of the triplet whose ear it’s going to start bleeding soon after he shooted at the ceiling. “Well, that was your warning Sir'' the sobbing duo looked at their brother, realizing he wasn't dead.

“There’s a key in my pocket” pale as a ghost, one of them murmurs, deciding to barter his father’s life for his own, Louis it’s a little sad upon noticing how for these people life will always be a business transaction. 

“But, where is the fun in doing that, darling?” he asks while sticking out his hip and smiling with something they cannot see. “ _One gotta chase a little before cornering you rats”_

“You got him, right? So please, please just let us go, we don’t have anything to do with-“

“Don’t think –not even for a second, these crocodile tears are going to work with me. What you are experiencing will never amount to the pain you and your family have caused, so do the favor of shutting up before I make you pee your pants, neither your Daddy nor I care for what you have to say.”

“Is this what this is about? Working-class mommy couldn’t afford a new pair of shoes so you decided to hunt us down when you got older? Do you know what you can do with this anarchist shit? You can-” Louis strongly wishes he could have shot him in the face, he can picture _Barbara -his favorite gun, sighing bored and resigned._

Blood it’s sprinkling everywhere, the man’s cries echo in the big room.

But it’s not _enough_.

“Let me tell you something, Squealer” the rest try to get closer and stop Louis from harming their brother even more, stopping as soon as he pulls up Barbara again and aims at the other leg. “There wasn’t a new pair of shoes at the table, there were no shoes, nor food, nor table. Want to know why?” 

“Why?” the bleeding man asks and Louis smirks bitterly under his mask. 

“Why don’t you ask Daddy? Let’s see if he is enough man to respond this time” Louis points, the Wright’s spawns hunch on the ground when the piercing sound of bullets striking the door fills the place. By the time the first magazine it’s over, the expensive door creaks in surrender like all things do, there are splinters all over the floor when he finally dares to peek through one of the holes. He doesn’t see much but he can hear their erratic breathings, a melody that has become one of his favorite sounds. 

“Who do you work for?” a terrified and seemingly young voice asks before being shushed. 

“I think we need a relaxation exercise so I am going to tell you a small story” he mutters while checking out the numbers in the screen of his watch, recognizing the tension coming from his shoulder and stretching his wrist a little bit. 

“Once upon a time in Mahal, there was a woman called Ines Rayle whose son Kai was a journalist working on a very important report about the mysterious acquisition of licenses for the indiscriminate dumping in water bodies. He was a very young and determined man, who just wanted to uncover the truth like many of us do. He knew the system’s ways though, how they look past all the reports made by citizens about disturbing smells, the death fauna, and the high reported levels of mercury and lead. Yet, Kai got close, so very close to the truth, that he closed the gap between himself and the ones hiding it. 

So he was skinned alive and left in a bag on his mother’s doorstep, Ines Rayle was then terrorized and blackmailed by those who murdered her son, who she joined just a couple of months ago. The thing is she didn’t leave in silence.”

“She was crazy!” a hoarse voice accuses, Louis entertains the idea of laughing but he can’t, not with the images of Ines lying on her bed, sheets hiding the brutality the world thought she deserved in exchange for a couple of billions. “What do you want?! I can write you a check, I can give you whatever you all want, just tell me what you want”

“Justice” the short answer burns in his throat, he doesn’t know what is more nauseating; the feeling and smell of his blood drying in the cloth over his mouth or the fact he has to go this far to pursue what he wants from and for the world. “To the ones with guns against your chest, I’m giving you the choice to walk out of this, take a nap like the rest are doing right now or go down on your knees while defending a man who thinks justice it’s something he can buy”

The murmurs are loud enough to make out 3 different voices, which means out of 25 men guarding the family’s head, he was able to take down 22 easily. He would be patting his shoulder if he didn’t know for sure how hard it would be to stare at himself in the mirror later at home. 

“Are you willing to trade your life for a death’s man?” He stilled every inch of his body, listening to the argument behind the door die down.

“What do we do, sir?” The same voice from before asks, Louis didn’t need to see his face to know how young he must be yet he breathes a short and silent sigh of relief before ordering them to come out one by one. He aims at them as soon as their trembling limbs and surrounding hands come in sight, the last one has a tearstained face that makes his finger on the trigger hesitate. “Are you going to…?”

“Yes,” Louis frowns when the young guard looks at one of the Wright’s brothers with a stare full of hate and resentment. “What’s your name?”

“You deserve this,” the young man says, ignoring Louis’s question once the man he wants to pay attention finally does. “I’m going to live my life without the fear of you, I’ll sleep peacefully knowing you will bleed out in this very same floor in which…”

“Would you sleep, my lady?” The mocking tone earns him a well-deserved punch from the distressed guard. “Guess those hormones work” 

Louis gets it before another punch can be thrown in the direction of the Wright’s heir, but as disgusted as he is by the implications, he is still running against time and can’t allow this to go on forever. No matter how much he wants to cheer for the guard’s aggression.

“Hey, look at me, okay? It will be alright” The look on his eyes seems to snap, the guard looks ashamed and scared all over again, youthful yet still as scarred by life. “You don’t need to hold your breath any longer” 

“Never again” he replies but it sounds like a question, he stands there, shaking and with furious tears streaming down his face. Trauma is consuming, and Louis wishes he could do more, let him know at least that none of Wright's scum would get to hurt him or anyone ever again. 

“Never again” he nods reassuringly, the sleeping dart’s effect it’s immediate but he knows the peaceful expression it’s only a facade. 

He sighs, closing his eyes for a small fraction of time just to open them again, reprimanding himself for getting distracted yet again. 

“So you had the nerve to snicker at me calling you a little man when you sexually harass your employees?”

“She begged for it!” Louis glares as much as he can, trying to ignore the crippling fire for the sake of the mission, already used to the same stupid speech from this kind of people. Even if he tried to argue, no words would ever be enough, he knew their kind. Also, no point in trying to talk a dead man out of their predatory behavior. So, he ignores their nonsense as he points both guns at them to lead the way inside their dad’s office. 

“Isn’t dumb for you to come for me, Mr…?” The head of the Wright’s Family sits by his desk, chair bigger than himself, and the dull eyes of a rat who believes himself to be a bull instead. “There are bigger people involved, you know? I could give you all the information you need to take them down, you just-” 

“You think I don’t know that, Allan?” the older man grips his hand tightly at the sight of his son’s bloody leg, his expression distorts into something Louis does not care to decipher from. “Do not worry, you won’t be the last” 

“Dad! Do something!” Samuel Wright’s screams, bloodshot eyes begging for his father to fix the unfixable, but no answer comes from the silent man who denies his children’s looks and turns his head away from them. 

“Kneel.” the raven-like man says, gun clicks setting off the nerves of the soon to be victims. They do as told, the one with the bleeding leg grunting as the pressure becomes too much, pale skin contrasting with the dark pool of blood under him. He can’t have them facing away from the main show, so he takes off the chains keeping their arms stretched, smirking again at the way they tremble. 

Louis knew very well that gaining satisfaction from causing terror was questionable, but thank the universe he didn’t have anyone to question his morals, the only people who knew about this were his colleagues and they agreed with him. So much for unbiased feedback. 

“They are my sons” Allan is looking at him, understanding he doesn’t have the upper hand, there is no negotiation nor power to shake his core, he is neither a vengeance angel nor the system they are used to groping for pleasure. 

“Are they, now?” he falters cockily, “They did knock, and you didn’t answer” he approaches the desk, sitting on it, guns hanging from both hands, and a playful glint in his eyes. “How much do their lives cost, Daddy?” Allan Wright’s frown makes him giggle, disgusting old man. 

“Name the price, I’ll give it to you” Louis advances, cat-like steps hide away the loud sound of his boots, he reaches the chair and stands behind it, bending so he can whisper and be heard. 

“I thought you were a businessman, Allan? Such a pity you give up so easily”

“I can give you billions for each of them, classified information, powerful amounts of stock- ” the man in disguise sighs, reaching for the needle kit on his bag.

“I am very sad to inform you Mr. Wright” he laughs when Allan’s expression falters, “that none of your offers are enough to clear up your debt, which is why I am here...now strip” the faces of the kneeling men vary from unconsciousness and fury to tears and snot stains. _A very reactive audience_ , he thinks. The man helplessly tries reaching for the emergency button under the big oak desk, wincing desperately when the alarm’s sound doesn’t reach his ears. “I said, strip”

“What are you going to do?”

“A statement, a pretty loud one” Louis replies, pulling out the contents of his bag as the man strips from his suit. Allan Wright tries to make a run for the door when he sees the scalpel and the masks, stumbling down because of the whip holding him by the ankle and shocking him. The triplets watch their father shake and whimper on the ground, crying loudly through frustrated tears. 

“Making me do extra work, what a surprise” the criminal grunts once he gets the man’s body back on the chair, baggy eyes stare at him fearfully and hopeless. “And for that, you get a nice shot” he explains as he empties the syringe on the protruding blue veins. 

The effect is almost immediate, sometimes it surprises him how the team can develop such weapons under the radar of the law and not get caught. When the older man’s limbs slump at the sides, the panic on his gaze alerts the triplets of his inability to move or talk. 

“Mm, just how you like it eh, Mr. Wright? I didn’t want to do this but then Edith Rusell told me how you like the girls at the club and I just couldn’t, you know? Thank you for being so understanding” Allan Wright watches the unknown man in black close on his sons, the sight of the scalpels in his hand making their cries louder. 

“Please, please, let us go…”

“I do think you deserved worse than this, but I have strict instructions darling”

“Why are you doing this?” the paler man asks in his pool of blood. 

“Do you think you don’t deserve any of this?” they stay silent until the same bleeding one speaks again. 

“Then you deserve it too” 

“Do I? I think I deserve a fucking medal for purging the world from people like you” Louis expresses with an ironic tone, toying with the scalpel on his other hand. 

“They’ll come for you”

“They always do, quite annoying when they do and wince when I keep riding them”

“What the hell is this? You are just a crazy whore!” screams the triplet in the center. 

“Mm Squealer, I do love some dirty talking” Louis stands in front of him, bringing the heel of his boot to the man’s crotch. “What a shame, maybe I’ll cut it and send it to your mates, a nice souvenir to remind them to not put their dicks in unwanted places.” The man tries to move away from the pressure on his groin but the words and screams die on his throat as he is grabbed by the hair, scalpel peeling the skin off his face. 

One of the brothers sobs loudly as the other one faints, the paralyzed father watches the criminal’s back, noticing the dripping blood and gurgling sounds. As the man moves and presents the flayed skin, Allan Wright stares in horror at his oldest son's bloody face.

~

In another extreme of the district’s limits, fluorescent pink lights danced around sweaty bodies tinting the loud whispers with euphoria. Citizens grind and drink to the sound of the classics that allow them to pretend the world outside those walls isn’t ready to judge them for who they are. 

Rainbow and other colorful flags wave under the force of the air conditioning as exotic and casual outfits swim in the sea of people, leather and tulle bounce on the waists and hips of their owners. Harry spins around the stranger holding onto his hand, and presses their back to his front, smirking when his companion jumps a little before moving their hips back for him.

The mirrorball hanging over their heads turns the see-through shirt on Harry’s chest into an iridescent masterpiece and exposed tattoos seem to gain the attention of another stranger with dark long hair and eyes full of mirth. Soon the man finds himself with two bodies against him, grinding and from time to time, they leave open mouth kisses on his butterfly-inked skin. 

When the man can’t ignore the constant vibration in his pocket anymore, he groans petulantly, moving away from a short skirt and neon makeup. This was supposed to be his free weekend and yet he can already tell whose name is on the screen even before he takes the phone out. 

Harry considers denying the call until said call dies down and he can see an alarming number of notifications from multiple coworkers trying to reach him. So he moves away from the crowd, trying to reach the backup exit as a new upcoming call lights up the screen. He seems to have pushed the door too hard, a pair of smokers and a couple by the fence eyeing him in annoyance for interrupting their calm. 

“This better be good! Why the hell are you blowing up my phone on a Friday night?!” he questions hoarsely, raw annoyance runs dry the moment he identifies the familiar clearing throat sound of his boss. 

“Agent Styles” Harry combs his hair out of his face with his fingers, closing his eyes in a grimace full of regret, heel white boots pacing around in circles. 

“Sir, I’m so-”

“Save it Styles, we’ve been trying to get in contact with you for hours but God forbid we require you to pick the damn phone on a Saturday”

“My apologies-”

“I don’t fucking care about your fucking apologies Styles! all I want to hear is that you are on your way”

“I will be there in 45 mins, Sir” the twenty-seven-year-old man replies, frowning when he looks at the time. 01:01 am. 

“Now Styles, why does your lazy ass need an hour? I needed you here an hour ago.”

“Sir, I don’t think your superiors officers would approve of me entering a crime scene with my current attire…”

“I don’t care if you walk in here wearing butterfly rainbow wings, you have 15 minutes to get down here or you’ll be on desk duty until next year” the phone call ends before he can mutter a word. 

Harry walks the empty hallways, going around the buildings so he can reach the main street. He laughs off the whistles and compliments from the people waiting in line. _Oh, how he wishes to have a night off, to dance the stress away and get off in someone’s heat._ As a delivery motorbike roars by and stops almost in front of him, he remembers his boss’s threat. 

“Any chance of you going to Taye’s Station?” the agent asks loudly, waving some bills in the delivery man’s face.

“Hop in!” And he does, holding into the sit with a firm grip as they ride away. 

Harry stares at the traffic lights and the endless crowds of people in the streets, he smells the diesel tainted air and opens his arms, welcoming something he doesn’t know the name of.


End file.
